Flee by Ann Voss Peterson, J.A. Konrath Read Free Book Online Page A

The wind had picked up a bit, chilling my still-damp gym shoes. The
alley was quiet, vacant, and I took it south, holding the duffle bag full of
ten thousand dollars in my bad arm, keeping my right thumb hitched in my rear
pocket, near the weapon nestled against the small of my back.
    Fourteen
steps out of the alley, I spotted a tail.
    She
was standing at a bus stop, a stylish wool cap on her head, staring intently at
a tablet PC no bigger than a paperback novel. Her large sunglasses broke up the
contour of her face, making her anonymous and unidentifiable as an agent.
    Except
to me.
     The
woman was doing isometric calf exercises. First flexing the left calf, then the
right, then lifting the left toes, then the right.
    I
knew she'd lift the left heel next, then slightly bend the knee. I knew this
because it was the same exercise The Instructor had taught me during training, used
to keep the leg muscles warm and limber in preparation for quick action.
    This
woman proved me correct, following the sequence exactly. I was too far away to
tell if this was another lookalike. But I would know soon enough.
    I
crossed the street quickly, keeping an eye on her, then approaching from the
side at an angle beyond her peripheral vision. She kept her nose in the tablet,
legs still twitching, oblivious to my presence.
      I
wanted to interrogate her, to know how she'd found me so quickly, to learn who
she was and what she wanted. But I was short on time, and leaving her here to
try my luck later could lead to her interfering with the Cory meeting. Contrary
to the movies, subduing and capturing someone was incredibly difficult,
especially without preparation and the proper equipment. A thousand things
could go wrong.
    Murder,
however, was pretty straight-forward.
    My
best bet was a quick shot right behind the ear. I did a discreet check for cops,
then reached for my weapon.
    The
move was so fast I almost missed it. While keeping both eyes on the computer
screen, she yanked a pistol from under her sweater and pointed it right at me.
I jerked sideways, two shots zipping through the space I'd occupied a
nanosecond ago, bringing my suppressed .22 around and catching her in the
chest.
    Unlike
the jacketed rounds for my Glock which were for penetration, the .22 was loaded
with star frags—special bullets shaped like a pointed king's crown. When they
hit a target the crown opened up like flower petals, allowing for maximum
energy transfer and creating an internal wound up to three inches in diameter. For
a small caliber they packed a big punch.
    So
big, my stalker went down instantly, glasses spinning off her face, dropping
both her gun and the tablet, then slumping to the sidewalk like a length of cut
rope.
    The
whole thing was over in less than a second, all the shots fired blending
together like a car backfiring. Once again I checked the street for any
witnesses, then hurried to the body, keeping my weapon alongside my thigh.
    When
I got close enough, several things struck me at once. The first was her face. Eyes
closed, lips parted, undeniably my features. While her chest didn't seem to be
moving, there also wasn't any blood. Her blouse and bra beneath were shredded
by the star frags, and there wasn't a vest under them. Rather, her skin showing
between the fabric tears was brownish and lumpy, almost as if it had been
slathered with peanut butter.
    Bringing
up my gun again, I pressed it under her neck while I touched her sternum. The
brown goop was moist and sticky, and her heart thrummed under my fingertips.
    I
pulled the trigger the moment I realized what the paste on her skin was. But my
doppelganger had anticipated the move. She swept my gun to the side. My round
hit the sidewalk. She brought up the heel of her hand and clipped me clean
under the jaw.
    I
toppled backward, my teeth crunching together so hard it rattled my brain, the
sparkly motes in my vision quadrupling in size when my coccyx hit the street. I
blindly brought the gun up,